


He Who Sheds his Blood with Me Today Shall be My Brother

by golden_gardenias



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Attempts at humour, M/M, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_gardenias/pseuds/golden_gardenias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iggy's out of jail, and his first stop is the Gallagher house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Who Sheds his Blood with Me Today Shall be My Brother

Ian rolled over and groaned, wondering what had woken him up so early.  He could hear Carl’s soft snores, Liam’s even breaths, and Mickey’s slight wheeze.  The rest of the house was silent, so he turned to spoon his boyfriend and settle back to sleep.

Then he heard it--the incessant knocking on the kitchen door, a series of five sharp bangs in quick succession.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, getting out of bed.

The knocker was growing more impatient, and Ian could hear muffled yelling coming through the door.  “Alright, I’m coming.  Jesus,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

If he’d been less groggy, he probably would’ve thought to grab the baseball bat hanging on the wall.  Because no one comes knocking this early on a weekend unless they’re bringing trouble.

As soon as the lock clicked the door shot open, an enraged Iggy Milkovich standing in the doorway.  His hair was a bit longer than it was the last time Ian had seen him, and he had a patchy beard growing.

“Where is he?” he growled.

Ian recovered from the shock quickly, squaring his shoulders.  “What do you want, Iggy?”

He stormed into the house.  “Don’t give me any bullshit, Gallagher.  I know he’s with you, so where the _fuck_ is he?”

He made for the stairs, and Ian lunged to block his path.  “Get the fuck off me!”  Iggy yelled.

Ian shoved him back and didn’t get his hands up fast enough to block the fist flying at his face.  Next thing they were rolling around on the floor, exchanging blows and grunting.

The commotion woke the rest of the house, and they all came thundering down both sets of staircases, Fiona wielding the bat.

Mickey sprang into action immediately.  “Get the fuck off him!” he shouted, tackling his brother.

“Argh!” he cried.  “Fuck you, get the fuck off me, Mick!”

They struggled for a few moments longer before Mandy grabbed the bat from Fiona and whacked the floor by Iggy’s head.  “Shut up, shitheads!” she yelled, glaring at her brothers.

They both paused and turned to her, panting.  “The fuck are you doing here, Iggy?” she asked.

He glared up at Mickey.  “Uncle Ronnie called me, told me your big news.”

Mickey rolled his eyes.  “And what, you decided you’d try and beat the shit outta me too?”

He scoffed.  “Fuck you.  I ain’t pissed about that.  Already knew you were gay anyway, the fuck do I care?.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, confused.  “Then what the fuck were you hitting Ian for?”

“Fucker was gettin’ in my way.”  He tried to shrug, but Mickey still had his shoulders pinned.

He laughed.  “Yeah, he does that.”

Ian rolled his eyes.  Lip smirked.

Iggy poked Mickey’s side.  “You gonna let me up, or what, Chub?”

“Fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ chubby,” he grumbled.  Iggy laughed as he stood, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Why’d you bother coming over if you weren’t gonna try to beat me up?” Mickey asked.

“Because, shit-for-brains,” he shoved lightly at Mickey’s shoulders, “you told _Dad_ before you told _me_.  How fucked up is that?  You can yell it in a crowded bar, but you can’t tell your own brother?”

Mickey shifted uncomfortably.

“He didn’t tell me either, if that makes you feel any better,” Mandy added.

Iggy’s eyebrows shot up.  “You didn’t even tell _Mandy_?”

Mickey was getting agitated.  “Look, the less people who knew, the better, alright?”

Fiona made eyes at her siblings to disperse, and they all--except for Ian--trudged back upstairs, leaving the Milkovich siblings to hash it out.

“What did you think would happen, we’d run and tell Dad the first chance we got?  Hold it over you, use it for blackmail?” Iggy asked, offended.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snapped.  “I just couldn’t risk it.  It...” he trailed off.

“It what?”

He looked at Ian.  “It wasn’t just me,” he said.

They were silent for a moment.  “I wouldn’t have hurt him, Mick,” Iggy replied quietly.  “I didn’t hurt him when we were kids, and I wouldn’t have hurt him now.”

A somewhat awkward silence settled over them.  “You said you always knew he was gay,” Mandy said.  “How?”

He snorted.  “‘Cause it was fucking obvious.”  He turned to Mickey.  “You were...six, I think, when you started Little League.  I was almost nine, and I would be the one to take you home after your practices.  One time I came early and took a nap in the stands.  Woke up to this fuckin’ freckled punk tryna pick-pocket me.”

Mandy smirked in approval.  “That was ballsy of you,” she said to Ian.

“I was five,” he scoffed.  “And Lip dared me to do it.”

“Well I had him by the throat, and he was turning purple, when Mickey came running up, shouting at me not to hurt him.  Fuckin’ bit my hand to make me let him go, and when I did, he kicked me in the nuts.  Told me he’d cut my dick off and eat it for lunch if I ever touched you.”

Mickey scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.  Ian folded his arms over his chest and smiled.  “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered.

“I thought it was weird,” Iggy continued, leaning against the kitchen counter, “‘cause he was only ever like that with Mandy.  He’d mess with her a lot, but as soon as me and Colin would join in he’d tell us to leave her alone.  Kid was like a pitbull.  But anyway, I thought it was weird, so I started watching the practices instead of just showin’ up at the end.  And let me tell you, little brother,” he wrapped an arm around Mickey’s shoulders, “you were the most jealous fucker I’d ever seen.”

Mickey pushed himself away from Iggy.  “Fuck you, I was not!”

Iggy laughed.  “Oh yes you fucking were!  Whenever someone sat next to him in the dugout, you made them move.  When your coach let you eat lunch on some picnic blankets in the outfield, you’d take his bag and sit on your own blanket so he would eat with you, and you wouldn’t even talk to him!”

“Shit, I remember that!” Ian interjected.  “And whenever Roger Spikey tried to sit with us, you would tell him that if he didn’t leave us alone you would bury him alive under home plate.”

Mandy snorted.  “Wow Mickey.  Possessive much?”

“I was not possessive.  Kid was just a douche.  And besides, I only had to steal his lunch twice before he just came and sat with me on his own, grinning like a fucking dumbass.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Mandy teased, pinching Ian’s side.

“Fuck off,” he laughed, swatting her away.

“It was obvious that you were both crushin’ pretty hard, but I didn’t want to say anything and spook you.  You never really looked happy unless you were scowling at the kid, and it seemed like he was your only friend.”

“Why’d they stop?” Mandy asked.  “If they were such good friends, why didn’t it last?”

Iggy sighed.  “I never really knew.  One day Mickey just started avoiding him like the plague, when he wasn’t trying to make him cry.”

“Oh yeah,” Ian recalled.  “He would pinch me til I had bruises and push me down.”

Mickey rubbed at his lip, agitated.  Mandy shoved his shoulder.  “The fuck, Mick?”

He glared at her before turning to Ian.  “You don’t remember?” he asked him.

Ian had a faraway look in his eye, searching for a long-buried memory.  “I think I do,” he said.

 

* * *

 

_He had always been the youngest in his family, but now there was a new baby at home.  Debbie.  She was okay, as far as babies went, as long as she wasn’t screaming._

_Last night she’d been up crying, inconsolable, and it had been Lip’s turn for the cotton ball ear plugs Fiona had presented them with.  Ian hadn’t gotten much sleep, and it was showing on the field: he hardly hit anything, and when he did, it was foul; his reaction times were slower, so balls that were hit went whizzing past him; and his pitching had regressed back to the accuracy of his first ever practice._

_Dejected, he sat on the sidewalk with his head in his hands, waiting for his older sister to come walk him home.  Mickey walked up to him, casting a shadow over Ian’s body as he stood above him.  “You okay, Gallagher?” he asked._

_Ian shrugged._

_“Why’d you suck so bad today?”_

_His pout deepened.  “I have a new baby sister,” he explained._

_“So?  I got one of those, too.”_

_“Well does yours stay up all night screaming?” he huffed._

_Mickey shrugged.  “Not really.  Sometimes she has nightmares and screams.  I let her get in my bed when that happens.”_

_“Is my sister having nightmares, then?”_

_“How should I know?  She’s your sister.”_

_“Should I get in bed with her when she screams?”_

_“You can’t, you’re too big for a crib,” Mickey pointed out._

_“Oh.  Right.”_

_The two children sat in a comfortable silence before Ian asked hesitantly, “Do you think I’m a bad big brother?  Is that why she’s screaming?”_

_Mickey thought for a moment.  “How old is she?”_

_“She came home a couple weeks ago.”_

_He clucked his tongue.  “Too early to tell.  You don’t have any big brother stuff to do yet.”_

_Ian sighed and rested his chin in his palm, idly toeing a pebble._

_Mickey stared at him for a few seconds.  “You know,” he started, reaching out slowly and taking Ian’s hand, “I could teach you, if you want.”_

_Ian looked at their hands and smiled.  “You’d do that?”_

_“Well duh.  Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t going to, stupid.”  His smile didn’t match his harsh tone, and Ian giggled, knowing to watch the smile rather than listen to the words._

_They sat in companionable silence, smiling at each other and clutching their hands between them, before a bigger shadow was cast over them._

_“What the fuck is this?” the man asked angrily._

_They craned their necks to get a look at his face.  “Dad!” Mickey exclaimed nervously, dropping Ian’s hand and wiping it on his pants._

_The man’s face was contorted into a ferocious snarl.  A shiver of fear shot down Ian’s spine, and he couldn’t imagine living with the man.  He hoped Mickey didn’t have to go home with him._

_Before Mickey could say anything else, the man was grabbing him up and shaking him.  “The fuck do you think you’re doing?  You don’t hold hands with boys.  Are you a faggot?”_

_Ian didn’t know what the word meant, and he didn’t think Mickey did either, but it sounded bad.  “N-no,” Mickey stuttered._

_“Good.” The man released his son with a jerk, smacking him on the cheek before kneeling in front of him.  “Keep it that way,” he growled.  With that, he turned and walked away, without checking to see if his son was following him._

_Mickey stood rooted to the spot, tears shining in his eyes.  “Are you okay?” Ian asked tentatively.  He watched his friend’s face close off abruptly.  “Mickey?” he reached up and touched his hand again, and Mickey jolted away as if he’d been burned._

_“You got me in trouble,” he spat._

_Ian stood up.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to.”  He reached out again to touch Mickey, but he backed away._

_“Just leave me alone, Gallagher.”_

_Ian bit his lip.  “But...are we still friends?”_

_Mickey snorted.  “What made you think we were friends?” he asked creully.  He shoved Ian roughly, and he tripped, falling on his butt._

_He stayed in the same position he landed in as he watched Mickey walk away from him, running to catch up with his father._

 

* * *

 

“Fucking Terry,” Iggy muttered darkly.  “I would’ve been there that day, but I was messing around with Colin and hurt my ankle.  But the point is, I never would’ve done that to you, man.  I’m your fucking brother; you could’ve told me.

“Alright, Jesus, I get it.  Can we move on from this?”

Iggy rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, whatever.  Just don’t let this happen with Colin, alright?  We were taking bets.”

Mickey narrowed his eyes.  “On what?”

“You don’t need to know,” Iggy sniggered.  “Just know that when he gets out, he owes me fifty bucks, butt-boy.”

Mandy’s eyes widened.  “No way,” she gasped.

The look on Mickey’s face was priceless.  “How--What-- _How the fuck did you know?!_ ” he spluttered.

Ian and Mandy clutched their sides, laughing hysterically as they watched Mickey squawk indignantly and chase his brother through the house.

 


End file.
